Get Your Ya Yas Here
by Mad-like
Summary: This one's for Jadziwine because I lost a bet. I was sure every episode since Quinn's accident was a Rachel Berry fantasy but Jadz called it.


_This one's for Jadziwine because I lost a bet. I was positive every episode since Quinn's accident was a Rachel Berry fantasy. Especially the season finale when you couldn't walk the halls of McKinley without tripping over a recording contract, an offer from the Joffrey ballet or a momma telling you to go spend your college fund on something that makes you happy. Cause that totally happened to me senior year. Anyway, here goes._

* * *

Mercedes groaned. Of course this had to happen to her, killer cramps right before her last chance to sing at Nationals. All those big plans, fronting the Troubletones, listening to Sugar sing. All of it out the window. Of course Schuester was quick to hand her lead to Quinn. How helpful. And the rest of New Directions dashed out of here like she had the plague.

After Coach Sylvester tried to poison her she was left with Alice and Tim. Alice McKenna was a friend who joined the TroubleTones as a favor to Mercedes. She was from dance squad, not cheer squad, so Coach Sylvester didn't scare her. Tim DeCastro was one of the band kids Schuester 'borrowed' for Sectionals and blackmailed his way into a free trip to Chicago and some alone time with Alice. Their idea of 'keeping an eye on Mercedes' consisted of making out on the other bed in this hotel room. Well, at least it was better than being alone.

Suddenly her stomach was saying 'hell to the no" to that witches brew Sylvester forced down her throat. "God, I'm going to be sick." Mercedes stumbled to the bathroom and stayed there for 15 minutes.

"You okay in there?" a voice, male, asked.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Sam. Alice said you needed help."

Mercedes looked down at her stained shirt. "I'm fine." she lied.

"Can I come in?"

"No!"

"I want to see for myself." He insisted. "Please?"

"I'm a mess."

"Impossible!"

"Very possible."

"Then it's a good thing I'm here. Please?"

"Fine! Come in."

"Oh!" He looked around at the toilet she'd missed. Then he grabbed a towel and threw it on the floor to cover the mess. Holding out a washcloth he'd just dampened he asked, "Do you have something else to wear?"

"Where's Alice?" Mercedes tried to hold onto some of her dignity.

"She left. Said she had to go practice. Do you have something else to wear?"

"Look in the Hello Kitty suitcase. Just get a shirt, don't go pawing through my shit."

"Gratitude." He mumbled. "Like I'd fondle your lady things." He returned in a few minutes with a shirt. "You need help?"

"Hell no!" she tried to stand up and stumbled. "Okay, maybe. But don't look!"

Sam helped her change with his eyes closed, which ironically he found more erotic than looking. Lots of opportunity for near misses. "That was fun but now it's back to bed for you!"

"What about this mess?" She asked looking around.

"I got it. Don't worry."

"I can't ask you to do that!"

"You cleaned up for me after the tilt-a-whirl. Now we're even." He took her arm and guided her to the bed.

"Thank you. And thanks for coming back Sam."

"It's fine. Go to sleep."

* * *

Mercedes woke an hour later to the sensation of being held. Looking down with a minimum of movement she saw strong legs wrapped around hers, legs covered with blond peach fuzz. What the hell? Damn, she really had to pee. Okay, first things first. She slipped out of Sam's grasp and tiptoed to the bathroom. Cramps all gone! Coach Sylvester ought to patent that horrific brew. Now, to figure out why Sam's in her bed with no pants.

"You okay in there?" he called from the other room.

"Yes." She came out and sat down on the edge of the bed. "What happened to your pants?"

"I guess they're dry by now. The bottoms got dirty so I hung them up to dry."

"Makes sense. And you crawled into my bed...why?"

"I fell asleep. Before that I sat there for a while, watching you sleep, wondering if you're a drooler or a snorer, cause that would be a deal-breaker."

"And?" She raised one eyebrow.

"Neither. A blanket hog, that's what you are. I'm going to ask our friends to give us blankets as wedding presents just to make sure we have plenty around the house."

"What wedding is this?" She asked with a bit of swagger.

"Don't pretend you don't know, Ms. Jones." he said, with way too much cheek she thought.

"You know what, Sam?" She was too sassy to still be sick, Sam thought.

"No, Mercedes. What?" He looked at his cell phone. "Hold that thought! How are you feeling? They want to know if you can come to practice. Rachel's singing Celine Dion if that helps you decide."

"How much time do we have?"

"Two hours before we go onstage. How are you feeling?" He put his hand over hers. "Really?"

"Good actually. I'm going to bottle that shit Coach gave me."

"So you wanna go practice now..." he paused significantly. "Or later?"

"Well, gee, I know how much you love yourself some Celine Dion." She ran her fingertips lightly along his leg.

"True that!" He stroked her leg. "But I could be convinced otherwise."

Mercedes smiled at him. "I guess I could bear missing Rachel sing for an hour or so."

"Alright!" He kissed her and sent out a text. "Here's our story, you're asleep and I'm waking you up in an hour. Til then you can't be disturbed. Wouldn't want to cause a relapse."

"Oh, you are good, Mr. Evans." she said kissing him. "I forgot how good you are."

* * *

"I'm back, bitches!" Mercedes announced, walking into the rehearsal room an hour later, hand in hand with Sam.

"Language!" Schuester barked.

"Thank God!" Santana hugged her. "Can you sing, Wheezy?" she whispered. "Quinn and Tina between them can't handle our original song and now's not the time for a watered down performance."

"What did I tell you about calling me Wheezy?" She laughed at Santana's expression. "Don't worry, babe. They don't call me mocha chocolata for nothing."

"Who calls you mocha chocolata?" She looked closely at the brown-eyed diva.

"Nobody." She aimed for wide-eyed innocence but missed when Sam choose that moment to wink at her and they both started giggling.

"Tell me about blanco chocolato, and I do want to hear all about it, but later. Right now we gotta figure out a plan. Berry's self-destructing."

Rachel was sitting between Will and Emma. Kurt was kneeling at her feet holding a piece of paper, Finn was rubbing her shoulders.

"What happened?"

"You know that lady from NYADA? The one she choked in front of? Well, La Berry decided to stalk the woman, somehow she thought if she irritated them enough they'd let her in. As plans go that's fucking brilliant, right? That piece of paper Kurt's holding is a restraining order. I've been an ass but I never got slapped with a restraining order. Anyway, now Hobbitt's too stressed to perform. Sucks to be her, huh?"

Mercedes turned at the sound of Rachel getting sick. Kurt jumped out of the way, barely making it clear and tripping over Blaine. Blaine caught him and the two boys rolled around on the floor, laughing.

"Kurt!" Rachel admonished him. "This is about me, remember?"

"Lady Marmalade! You're up." Sue shouted. "Quinn, Puck. You're with me. Paradise is moving to the second slot. Salt, Pepper! Sit out Paradise, you're closing. Hit it ladies!"

* * *

As if Quinn could handle Patti LaBelle. As if, Mercedes thought as she and Santana belted out "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" Sex. You can't go wrong with sex. At least in her recent experience that had proven to be the case. Mercedes breezed off stage as the rest of New Directions ran onstage to back up Puck and Quinn leading "Paradise by the Dashboard Light."

"I can do it!" Rachel insisted. She was holding her stomach but Mercedes didn't know if this was her "oh, the drama!" pose or her "oh, I'm going to puke" pose. Sam waved her over and she looked at the song they were supposed to do.

"She looks like she's sick." Sue said. "I know what to do."

"No, I'm fine" Rachel said, terrified of being put in the tender loving care of Coach Sylvester. "Just fine."

"Didn't I cure Aretha? Wimp! Show Choir ain't for cowards." Sue dragged her away, returning several minutes later, without Rachel.

"Where's Rachel?" Schuester looked around with concern.

"Rachel? Oh, Rachel!" Sue looked around nonchalantly. "Rachel fall down, go boom."

"Sue!"

"Jesus, Will! Are we here to win a competition or to massage Berry's ego? Why waste time on Ms. Fifty/Fifty? Who knows which Rachel Berry is going to show up tonight?"

"Sue! You can't just..."

"Sure I can." She pointed out. "I just did."

Emma shot off an "Oh, Sue!" look before she and Schuester left to find Rachel.

"Sam, Mercedes." They were both shocked that Sue was addressing them by their real names instead of Salt/Pepper, Chocolate/Milk, Ying/Yang or some other combination. "Make momma proud" she said with a real smile. She sent them off to take their positions on-stage as New Directions left the stage.

"Where's Rachel?" Kurt asked, out of breath from dancing.

"Beats me." Sue said innocently.

"Coach Sylvester!" Kurt whined. "We can't do this without her. She's our star!"

Sue pulled a pair of pink sunglasses from her pocket. "Well, Porcelain, I suggest you use protection." She put on the sunglasses. "'Cause you're about to see a supernova."

_From the second you touched me_  
_I was ready to die_  
_I've never been fatal, your my first time_  
_I feel like an angel, who just started to fly_  
_Well you got a, you got a way that your makin' me_  
_Feel I can, feel I can, do anything for ya baby_  
_I will fly for ya baby, hold on and enjoy the ride_  
_I'm not in no hurry baby, We can fly all night baby_  
_It's your move, now baby_  
_Baby let's fly!_

* * *

**The Set List**

Lady Marmalade (1975) – LaBelle

Paradise by the Dashboard Light (1977) – Meatloaf

I'm Your Baby Tonight (1990) – Whitney Houston. Yes, it's Whitney for the win!

Sorry, Jadz, I couldn't fit in a straight jacket, restraining order is the best I can do on short notice.


End file.
